Honestly, the highway walking is not worth it. I can deal with asphalt and boredom but the danger of getting smashed, or worse, being responsible for others getting smashed, is not worth it.
The clouds cleared briefly, on pastoral scenery but the mood was ruined. We just wanted to get off the highway. I was kind of hoping for mud but didn't dare say it out loud.
After an eternity, we reached Azambuja. With the help of of gestures and broken English from a man in the street, we found our home for the night, Flor de Primaver.
It was almost an exact replay of last night- shock that we wanted to share a room, turning to acceptance when we said we were family. What's up with that? Are mixed marriages uncommon? Do we not seem like a married couple? Maybe we hold hands too much to be believable?
The room was ok. Gyu eon frantically searched in vain for wifi. We ate dinner at a cafe on the ground floor, a place that seemed to be the busiest place in town. 6 or 7 people came and left while we were there, presumably on their way home after arriving at the nearby train station.
One worker speaks English and explained the set menus; 4 euro, 5 euro, and 6.50 euro. I joked that the 6.50 euro set was fancy. She retorted, "how fancy can a 6.50 euro meal be?" but smiled. The fancy set included coffee and JH arranged to have it served in the morning when we came back for breakfast.
She gave some advice about the next day-- light rain but the farm roads shouldn't be boot-sucking mud pits (paraphrased). I don't know how she would know but she was confident, and that's all we needed.
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